Adrenalin
by TangerineFields
Summary: Quidditch is what James Potter lives and breathes. One match against Slytherin stands between him and the eternal glory of the Inter-House Cup. Slytherin, of course would never, ever play dirty.


A/N: Heck, this is a bit of a first. My first fic in two parts. Not sure I'm quite ready for this, but here goes!

Disclaimer: All of the characters mentioned are the property of Ms. J. Rowling, with the exeption of Titus Greengrass, who is on loan to me from **M'rika's** rather wonderful 'Fraternising is an Ugly Word'

**Adrenalin**

James bit his bottom lip to stop his hands shaking. The bench was uncomfortable, the wind cold as it blew through the tent flaps, but all he cared about was the thick, chalked white lines on the board in front of him. He swore when he became Team Captain, he was making everything so much bloody simpler.

He jumped when Fabian's hand came down on his shoulder. "Up you get, Potter. You're not even changed yet."

James glanced up at him, and tried to smile apologetically but his lips contorted into something that was more like a grimace. "We'll win, right?"

Fabian grinned, pulling the canvas across for James. "Only if you get a move on, Potter. It only takes Malfoy so long to fix his hairnet."

* * *

"Oi!" Sirius' hit James with all the force of a stampede of Hippogriffs as he ducked into the changing rooms. "You still not ready, Jamesy?"

"Ow!" James rubbed his shoulder. "I'm not a bloody bludger, Pads."

Sirius grinned. "I'm practising! I'm out for the nose this time. What d'you think?" Sirius clutched his own nose and began to flail around, moaning. "Ahh noo, Narcissa! It's broken, oh my face, my beautiful face!"

"Sirius." Alice's hand brushed across Sirius' arm. "Not now."

Sirius looked up to see Mulciber, who was the size of a stampede of Hippogriffs and Dolohov looming in the doorway.

"You'll need this joker once you've lost, Prewett." Dolohov's thick, Russian drawl set James' teeth on edge. "You can't expect to win on that now can you," he gestured to one of the old school Nimbus 1000s propped up in the corner. "Why," he started toward Alice, his hand outstretched. "The wind could snap this one in two."

Gideon stepped in front of Alice, batting Dolohov's gloved hand away. "No offense, but fuck off, mate."

Dolohov curled his lip in disgust, whipping his hand back as if he'd been stung. He clicked his fingers at Mulciber and with a lethal glare at Gideon, he and his lumbering lackey stalked off across the grounds.

"Nasty bastard that one," Gideon muttered, glancing apologetically at Alice. "Take more than the wind to snap you in two."

* * *

James was still shaking when, scarlet and golden they trouped off across the lawn toward the stadium. He clutched at his broom handle, feeling his knuckles whiten. Infuriated by reports of his behaviour worsening as 5th year progressed, his father had not warmed to hints, however large, blundering and otherwise brain achingly obvious that concerned getting his son a new racing broom for the start of Quidditch season. It wasn't as if this wasn't a big game either. If they won this game, they would win the Cup. First time since James had been playing, first time in years.

Sirius glanced at James as he tugged on his gloves. "S'not like they've got anything to lose."

Trust Sirius to read his mind. "Slytherin. Nah, it's not." James sighed. The chatter from the stadium was already almost deafening. "If we loose –"

"Ravenclaw win." Sirius shuddered. "S'not right, I'm telling you. They're meant to all be like Remy, that lot and Rem's shit at Quidditch."

James chewed his lip. "Slytherin are gonna play dirty."

"Yeah," Sirius snorted. "Hell yes. Just remember to duck, alright golden boy?"

James just about managed a smile as Sirius tapped his bat against the archway into the stadium for luck. "That worked so far?"

"Well, we're here, aren't we?" Sirius grinned. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

"Right," Fabian gathered them all with a wave of his long arms, ushering them closer to escape from the expectant rumble emanating from the stands. "Slytherin aren't going to keep this clean but I want us to try to." He nodded toward Sirius and Tariq, a lean, handsome boy who kept winking at Alice. "If things get out of hand, it's your call."

"No problem." Sirius' eyes were gleaming. Fabian shot him a warning look.

"We need a quick game. Alice, you catch that snitch as soon as possible, girl."

"We'll keep the bastards off your tail." Tariq grinned, slapping his bat against his hand.

Madam Hooch broke through the circle, looking particularly fierce. "Right," she glowered, "Prewett, come here." She gestured toward the central circle. "Greengrass, you as well."

Behind the Slytherin captain, Malfoy tossed his hair arrogantly, and James glanced at Sirius, expecting a smirk, but Sirius' eyes were fixed firmly on his doppelganger, half hidden in Avery's shadow. Regulus' stared intently at the frozen ground, his dark hair masking most of his face.

"Now shake hands. I want a nice, clean game and god help the player who makes me blow this." She brandished her whistle like it was a lethal weapon, staring sternly at the two teams. Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed Kingsley shuffle nervously. It was only his second game of the season and his first had been a half an hour pummel of Hufflepuff. He glanced back and tried to smile reassuringly, his stomach doing back flips.

"Right, mount your brooms." Madam Hooch clicked back the lock on the crate containing the balls. "On my whistle, please, Carrow." She glared at the Slytherin chaser, who was hovering a good few inches off the ground.  
The crate flew open. James threw one last, anxious glance in Sirius' direction. The whistle shrieked. Fifteen brooms shot into the winter sky.

The moment he left the ground, James felt all of his nerves slip away. He watched Carrow streak off in the Quaffle's wake and knowing he had no chance of catching him on his old Nimbus, charged down pitch toward the Gryffindor goals where Kingsley was hovering, looking distinctly nauseous. Carrow shot towards him, the Prewetts hot on his tail and caught between them and the edge of the pitch, he lobbed the Quaffle desperately toward the goal. The impact as the leather hit his gloves brought a grin to James' face but the feeling as he swept down the pitch, ducking and diving to avoid Avery, who was bearing down on him, was like nothing in this world. James glanced toward the goal, and seeing his chance, tossed the Quaffle through the hoop.

The cheer was deafening.

**"And that's ten points for Gryffindor! First goal of the match goes to Potter, for a daring streak down the pitch!" **Hackett's voice boomed across the stadium above the roar of the Gryffindor stands. James took a moment to bathe in his glory before shooting off down the pitch after Greengrass.

"**Ouch! That looked like it hurt! ****Avery and Prewett have just smashed into each other as Greengrass ducked to shake his Gryffindor pursuer." **

Madam Hooch's whistle blared out across the stadium.

"**And Hooch has called a foul for Slytherin, ladies and gentlemen!"** The violent hissing from the Gryffindor end nearly drowned out the Slytherin cheers.

"Fuck!" James spat to Fabian, who was hovering close to him. "No way was that Gideon's fault!"

"**And it'll be Avery to take the penalty. Gosh doesn't Shacklebolt look nervous!"** The stands were beginning to murmur apprehensively.

"Come on Kingsley!"

"Avery! Avery! Avery!" The Slytherin chant shook the goalposts and Kingsley, who dived valiantly for the Quaffle but it sailed on through the huge hoop.

"Ah shit," James heard Fabian mutter as the pair of them swooped toward the slowly descending Quaffle. "Grab it Potter!"

James snatched the ball from the air, and shot up toward the open sky.

"**And Potter's got the Quaffle, oh, no, sorry ladies and gentlemen, after a nasty blow from a bludger, make that Carrow whose got it! And he's headed for the Gryffindor goal again. Is he going to make it two for Slytherin?" **

James shook his head viciously to clear the ringing in his ears. Carrow was getting dangerously close to the shooting patch before a well aimed bludger to the head knocked him completely off course. James glanced up as Sirius shot past him, waving his bat merrily. "You jammy bugger, Pads."

"Lazy bastard, Jamie!" Sirius singsonged cheerfully and then dived down, spotting Gideon, who was flailing side to side with a bludger on his tail. No problem. A well aimed whack sent it spinning toward Malfoy, who ducked, a filthy look plastered across his stinking pure blood face. If only you could score with bludgers.

"**Woah, that was a nice shot! Gideon Prewett tucks one away for Gryffindor from well outside the scoring area! Right past Malfoy's ear! Wonder if he heard the whoosh…"**

Sirius took a moment to whoop before jetting off to thwack a bludger in Greengrass' direction. The Slytherin captain swerved neatly and Sirius nearly collided with Tariq.

"**Near miss there for the Gryffindor beater. Watch that bludger Black!"**

Sirius spun in midair, his broom protesting as he sent it rearing sharply up into the icy air. Mulciber's bludger was streaking toward Kingsley, who seemed to be blissfully unaware of the impending impact.

"Shacklebolt!" Sirius yelled, "Duck you prat!"

"**Ooh, that looked nasty!"** Hackett winced. Sirius ground to a halt next to Kingsley, who was doubled over, clutching at his stomach. Taking a whack at the bludger hanging threatening over them, Sirius slapped a hand down on the Keeper's shoulder.

"Come on mate."

"**Wait a minute!"**Sirius' head jerked up, charitable thoughts about Shacklebolt evaporating. **"Black's spotted the snitch! He's diving!"**

The collective gasp of the crowd as Regulus shot after the snatch of gold yanked Sirius back into action. There was no way his bloody kid brother was taking the Cup off them. He dipped into a dive and slammed his bat into the nearest bludger that, reading his mind, set a direct course for the Slytherin seeker.

"**Ouch! In a mean thwack of a bludger from his older brother, Black has been sent spinning off course! Clearly, water is thicker than blood when House Cups are concerned."**

Sirius stuck two fingers up at Hackett and got a furious glare from McGonagall in return.

"Watch it, Black!" Fabian swooped past, Quaffle tucked under his arm, Dolohov hot on his tail and in a moment of dense exhilaration, Sirius swung into the Slytherin beater's path. The collision was pretty spectacular, a tangle of arms and robes and wooden handles that ploughed a good metre long furrow in the hard earth.

"**Wow, that was really something! I'm – I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen but I'm not entirely sure what happened there. We're all waiting with baited breath on Madam Hooch's verdict…sorry Professor, I mean, obviously, we're all waiting to see if Dolohov and Black have survived their pretty damn impressive crash…"**

Sirius picked himself up, his head spinning. He'd torn a good chunk out of his robes and there were quite a few black spots dancing on the grass in front of him. He groaned and reached for the back of his head. Nothing. He'd had worse. He reached down unsteadily and grabbed his broom, eliciting a thunderous cheer from the Gryffindor stands.

"**And Black's on his feet! And Dolohov is…"** Sirius glanced across to watch the Slytherin beater pick himself up before shooting back off into the sky. **"And Dolohov's on his feet as well! Stern stuff, these two!"**

Slytherin got the foul. A hush fell over the stadium as Carrow flung the Quaffle toward the Gryffindor goal posts. In the wings, James crossed his fingers.

Shacklebolt dived and caught the ball against his chest, the impact nearly knocking him back through the goalposts with it. The roar was deafening.

After that, the Slytherin team seemed to have it in for Kingsley. Tariq was unofficially dubbed his bodyguard, leaving Sirius to slam Mulciber's bloody fearsome bludgers away from the swerving, diving trio of chasers. It was Avery who finally got the better of the Gryffindor keeper, swooping down on him while Dolohov smashed a bludger at the back of his head.

"**Shit! Sorry Professor but that's got to be illegal! In a foul move by Dolohov and Avery, Shacklebolt's been firmly invalided out of this match!" **

Boos and catcalls rang out as Tariq and Fabian helped Kingsley down to solid ground. He was bleeding, the blood staining the back of his neck as Madam Pomfrey and a posse of 4th years hefting a stretcher bore down on him.

"**And that's the Gryffindor team captain calling for time out. I think we're taking a break for a bit, ladies and gentlemen in the wake of some disgustingly foul play by Slytherin!" **

**

* * *

**

As Fabian led the battered remnant of his Quidditch team back across the grass toward the tent, James fell back into step with Sirius, who had a particularly black look on his bloodied face.

"Avery deserves disqualifying, the bastard."

"And bloody Dolohov with him." James grimaced. "You coulda done a better job of taking him out, Pads."

"Hey," Sirius ducked into the tent. "I tried, hitting the bastard's like flying into a brick wall."

"Black?" Sirius' head jerked up. Fabian didn't look particularly murderous, but you could never tell. "Don't you dare tell me you didn't see him."

"Dolohov?" Sirius shrugged. "Got him off your tail, didn't I?"

"Yes, well ploughing up the pitch is not what I've got you on the team for, is it? I'm not planning on going out afterwards and planting bloody potatoes." Fabian ran a hand through his shock of ginger hair. "Pomfrey wants to see you in the showers."

"I'll bet she does." James grinned but Sirius just sighed and pulled a clod of dirt from his dark hair.

"I'll see you out there, Prongs."


End file.
